


Amor Fati

by Dayvy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Deaf, Deaf Character, Gen, Kalos, Nuzlocke Challenge, Original Character-centric, Pokemon X
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayvy/pseuds/Dayvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Pokemon X Storylocke. A young Deaf girl out to be the world's greatest Pokemon Trainer and prove everyone who said she couldn't that they were wrong. Along the way, she discovers a terrible plot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Fati

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not familiar with the Nuzlocke Challenge, a quick google will sort you out! The quick explanation is that following a few rules makes the game a lot more interesting and difficult.
> 
> I. Any Pokemon that faints is considered dead, and must be perma'boxed.  
> II. Only the first Pokemon seen in each new area/route may be caught.  
> \--Dupes clause. If second encounter is a dupe, too bad.  
> \--Shiny Pokemon are freebies, but must be boxed ASAP if they are not the first encounter.  
> \--Legendary Pokemon may be caught, but must be perma'boxed ASAP.  
> \--Gift Pokemon are freebies.  
> III. All Pokemon must be given a nickname.  
> IV. Wonder-trading the starter (up to three times depending on suitability).

_“What is she even doing here? She’s_ deaf. _There’s no way she’ll ever be a trainer anyways…”_  
_“Right, like, okay, I get it, you want to be all politically correct and whatever but like, why even humor her? Maybe if she could, like,_ speak _? But her Pokemon are never going to be able to get her commands…”_  
 _“Oh Arceus, I’d hate to be hearing impaired… I’d just_ die _without my music, wouldn’t you?”_  
  
{ - + - }  
  
“I really am sorry,” he says, jaw clenching as if this is painful to _him_. As if he didn’t have any say in the matter. “I just… I don’t feel comfortable giving you a Pokemon.” He shifts and looking at him is almost physically painful for me. He’s wringing his hands and shifting about and everything about him screams that he wants to stop talking to me and get away.  
  
I don’t break eye contact, not even once. That tends to get a bit uncomfortable for people, but it doesn’t really bother me.  
  
“See, it’s just…” This is the part, I assume, where he tells me I’m too disabled to be a Pokemon trainer. This is the part where he lies to cover up his own assumptions and prejudices. I’ve seen it all before, of course, people assuming what I can and can’t do. They haven’t figured out what I have. “It’s just… You’re still fairly young anyways, and maybe… with technology—they’ve got that implant, haven’t they? Maybe if… if they just… you know, they… I don’t want you to get hurt, okay, honey?” He tries to smile, tries to soften his speech, the fact that he’s denying me a Pokemon because he thinks I’m too weak to survive on my own. He thinks I have to be babied. I know what he sees when he looks at me. Like I said, he hasn’t figured it out.  
  
It doesn’t bother me anymore. I mean, it does, to some degree. That’s only natural. But I figured out long ago that if I want to get something done, I do it myself. What’s the use in standing around moping? If someone thinks I can’t do something, then by Arceus, _I prove them wrong._ That said, I knew exactly what he’d say, so I had already written a note to respond to Monsieur Lechevalier. He grabs it from my hands quickly, flinching as his hands brush against mine. He looks like he feels guilty. I’m glad.  
  
_< Thanks for your time & consideration. I’ll just take my Trainer’s license and be on my way then.>_  
  
I smile at him, hoping it doesn’t look as artificial as it feels. But once Monsieur Lechevalier has read my note, he’s avoiding my gaze. It’s clear he wants me to leave, but he says something I don’t quite catch as his head turns away. I scowl, all pretenses of polite civility in the face of this discrimination gone. I snap my fingers twice, a gesture which makes the pitiful balding man before me glance back in my direction, eyebrows raised. Did he think I didn’t know how to make sounds? I tap my mouth pointedly. He flinches again.  
  
“I just—are you sure you want it still…?” He’s supposed to be the principal of the Kalos Trainer School, an imposing figure, but he looks decidedly pathetic to me now. Maybe it’s the way he wants me to like him, maybe it’s the way he sees me as a small child, maybe it’s the way he doesn’t seem to think I have as many rights as he does. I hate adults, sometimes. I give him a look that says everything and his face twists in a grimace as he pulls out the small plastic card with my name labeled on it: GRETA LAFEUER.  
  
I snatch it from his hands just as quickly as he took the note from mine and flash him my most fake smile as I make a quick sign- the tips of my fingers curl under my chin before I flip them forward in an open hand. He tries to repeat the gesture with a pained look on his face and it’s clear he thinks I’ve merely said ' _thank you'_. I walk out of the office with a smirk and praise Xerneas that ' _thank you'_ and ' _fuck you'_ look extremely similar to anyone who doesn’t know sign language.  
  
Maman is waiting for me outside his office, her graying old Fletchling nestled on her shoulder. When I exit, her eyebrows fly up, her mouth opens slightly, the very picture of anticipation. I know what she wants me to say, and the little self-satisfied smirk on my face hasn’t exactly helped matters. A little pit grows in my stomach—I’d felt like I’d pulled one over on the old principal, a small victory, but his attitude was a common one. It wasn’t the first time I’d been set back and it wouldn’t be the last.  
  
_‘I told you he wouldn’t give me a Pokemon, Maman,’_ I sign after tucking my trainer license into the front pocket of my jeans. _‘What did you think would happen? After everything we went through for me to even go here?’_  
  
She purses her lips together tightly, _‘I should go speak to him, it isn’t right to discriminate against you like that. That’s not fair. Oh, sweetheart…’_ Her eyes are pitying and she sweeps me into crushing hug like only mothers can. I hug her back before pulling away to continue our conversation. Her Fletchling, Fletchy, tilts his head worryingly at Maman and pecks her neck gently. It’s clear to him that she’s the one in distress. You’d never know it was me who was denied based on Maman’s reaction. _‘Ohh, sweetheart, are you okay? I’m sorry, baby. It’s alright, you could just stay home, maybe you could study to be a researcher? You could still work with Pokemon—‘_  
  
_‘Maman-‘_ I interrupt her sharply with a wave of my hand, jabbing my thumb on my chin roughly, the rest of my fingers outstretched. _‘Maman, this is not stopping me. I’m still going to be a trainer. I’m still going to win all eight badges and Pokemon League. This…’_ I gesture to our surroundings and shrug, _‘I just needed this for my license. I got this. Don’t worry about me. I can do anything. I can be anything. This doesn’t stop me.’_  
  
_‘That’s right. I’ve always told you that. You can do anything. You can be anything.’_ She sniffles and pulls me into another of her infamous hugs and this time, Fletchy nuzzles against me like he can sense I’m tired of her hugs. I don’t do this—sitting around, pitying myself. I’ve moved on already, I want to get out there, catch a Pokemon on my own and prove myself. Maman says something else but I don’t catch it without seeing her face. I push myself back again and point at my lips again. I hate having to do this with her because she ought to know better. But sometimes she slips.  
  
I can hear a little bit. With my hearing aids on, no background noise, and a great familiarity with the individual, I can even understand voices sometimes. This tends to be limited to my mother and a few close friends, but I prefer signing above all else. It’s what comes naturally to me, a rich and beautiful language. Unfortunately, most people can’t sign and that’s where I’m lucky technology has come as far as it has. My glasses are able to convert spoken language into written captions, superimposed on my vision field. It’s not perfect and sometimes it really messes up. I prefer not to have to rely on it. But I’ve been trying to use mine more often to prepare for traveling, where they might be my only means of understanding.  
  
“Oops, sorry, sweetheart—“ _‘Let’s get back to Vaniville, okay?’_  
  
I nod in agreement and it doesn’t take long to get from Santalune City to Vaniville, where we live.  
  
My journey might have a slower start than some. But… as my thumb brushes against the hard plastic card sticking out of my pocket, I smile. It might be a bit slower, but they say the best things are worth the wait, right? I’ll get there. I’ll get there. And I’ll show them all that I can do anything, be anything, and nothing and nobody can hold me back.


End file.
